


Time

by RedSnow1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Awesome Rowena MacLeod, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Character Death, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heaven, Hesitant Sam Winchester, Hurt Rowena MacLeod, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Sorry, Mercy Killing, Murder, Regret, Sad Sam Winchester, Sad with a Happy Ending, Scared Rowena MacLeod, Violence, motherly, proud rowena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: The world is ending. There is no other way. Sam Winchester must kill Rowena.





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> Good day, friends !
> 
> Here is my new Rowena story I wrote quite a few weeks ago out of sadness. I recently binge-watched the show and I was devastated to hear about Rowena's fate in Funeralia. For some reason, I do think that Rowena will die in the last season, but if she does, I want her to have a beautiful death which is why I made this story! At least, it sparkled my creativity. I hope you will enjoy this bittersweet story!
> 
> And big thank you to my beta for this story @YlvaUllsdotter who helped me see in which way I could make my story better ! Thank you so much for the time you spent <3
> 
> Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you thought of it! <3

Rowena was standing all by her lonesome, facing the ocean. A soft breeze was softly blowing her red curls, making her long and equally scarlet dress sway. She stood out, facing the wrath of nature, like a pale ghost waiting for the end of the world. The waves were crashing on the shore, the mountains stood still and proud around them. Sam stopped, a pained smile on his lips, admiring how stunning she appeared, standing out in the greenish surroundings. She was quiet, obviously waiting for something. Waiting for him.

_ What a beautiful scenery for the massacre to come _ , he thought as he walked slowly over to her with light steps so he wouldn’t be heard. The witch had insisted they meet here of all places. Rowena wanted to come back to her roots, her homeland she always told them about during dinners, the place she had been forced to leave. In her descriptions, there used to be a barn right where he stood. It was her home, where she had raised her son for eight long years before fleeing the country. There was nothing but ruins now, which added to the tragedy of the situation. He shook his head and focused back on his task — his most difficult one. Seeing the woman that way, surrounded by the wonders of nature, Sam could not help but admire the witch’s confidence and fearlessness. She was utterly breath-taking. Of course, Rowena had always been quite an appealing woman, but today, even more so.

Maybe it was because she knew what was to come. 

It was time, and he had to fulfill her destiny. It was written in her book, and even though they had defeated fate more than once, there was no escaping this one. Sam patted his pockets and withdrew his gun, slowly pointing it towards her. It would all be easier that way. No talking. No witnessing her life leaving her body. His hands were shaking, his eyes filled with tears. He did not want to be the one to bring death upon her. Not after everything they had been through. Not after the moments they had shared. Over the past years, Rowena had become more than an ally to them: killing her would hurt as much as if he had been asked to kill Castiel, or Jack.

Yet, the hunter had no other choice, he tried to remind himself, over and over again, hoping he could convince himself. There was no other way — Rowena seemed to accept that. It was Fate’s desire. It was the end of the world and only her death could protect the future of mankind. Her soul would allow them to build the ultimate weapon and annihilate God’s power on this earth. They couldn’t kill God but the least they could do was put him where he could cause no more harm.

Her life against the universe. There was no question. Why couldn’t he do it, then?

When his finger came to rest on the trigger, he didn’t squeeze it. He simply froze, unable to act upon his words. He stood, his hair blown by the wind provoked by the grey, threatening sky high above their heads, trying to catch his breath and ignore the horrible aching in his heart.

“Is it time?” She said out loud.

Startled, Sam looked at the woman in front of him. She had not turned and yet, had sensed his presence. Of course, she would. After all, she was the deadliest witch around. She had been alive for more than three hundred years, surely it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder her from behind. Sam Winchester sighed. Putting his weapon back into his pocket where it belonged, slowly, careful not to break the quiet atmosphere, the hunter made his way towards his prey, stopping right next to her in silence. The witch did nothing to show him that she had noticed his presence. For a while, neither of them talked, appreciating the view — the sun glowing behind the clouds, a symbol of hope. He was mesmerized. She seemed nostalgic, regretful even.

“Shoot me in the back? That’s very unlike you, Samuel. If there is one thing I know about the Winchesters it’s that they are not cowards.” She chuckled, trying to break the ice.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. How could she be so calm? How could she remain witty and light when the darkness was about to swallow her? He wasn’t fooled by her quiet demeanor: she was up to something. Rowena had avoided death for three hundred years out of fear. Surely she was acting that way to conceal the terrifying truth even she couldn’t accept. She was terrified. Hell, he was scared.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I never realized how much I had missed it. This place. My home. It almost looks the same.”

“Rowena —” Sam started.

His voice broke and died in his throat. He didn’t even know what to say. There were no words that could express how he felt towards the witch — towards this situation. From enemies, they had grown to become allies, friends — family. Sam wanted to let her know how much her help over the years had been welcome, how it had become such a bliss to be around her. He wanted to tell her how much he would miss hearing her sing in the corridors of the bunker, or find her buried in books. Somehow, it all seemed wrong. It was not enough. He was, after all, about to eradicate her from the surface of the earth.

But before he could try to mumble something, the redhead turned to him and placed a finger on his lips, shushing him. Sam took a step back. At last, he was able to see her face: she had put on some makeup, as she always did. Her lipstick matched her dress, her eyes were perfectly done. He would have chuckled if he had had the heart to. Rowena MacLeod was a woman who had decided to look her best, even in death.

“Now now. Let’s not make it overly sentimental, shall we? Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” she whispered.

There was no tremor in her voice. No tears in her eyes. She had accepted her fate. He hadn’t.

But she was right. Talking would only make it more complicated for him — for her too.

Too many regrets. But he couldn’t help it. He had to let her know.

“Rowena — I wish there was another way. You have to know — I never wanted this to happen.”

_ There was a time where I would have. I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. But not now. Not after everything you did for us. For my family — which you became a part of. _

_ I wish it didn’t have to be me. I wish it didn’t have to be you. _

_ I wish I could save you. _

A single tear rolled down Sam’s cheek silently. Rowena observed it, her chin trembling slightly as she repressed another wave of sadness.

“I know. But everything must come to an end.  _ Even me _ .”

She was standing closer now, forcing him to face her. She was so tiny he couldn’t escape her glance. Sam closed his eyes, trying to hide his sorrow. Rowena slowly cupped his cheeks and held them in her hands, erasing with a simple motion the proof of his grief. His chest ached; he had never seen her that way. Motherly. Caring. Dying. He gave in and sought the warmth of her skin, opening his sad eyes once more. She was grinning and it was her way to let him know that it was alright. There were no words needed. He could tell that she forgave him — he could let her know how much he regretted what was to come.

After a few silent seconds, her hand fell back by her waist, and head down, she sighed.

“It’s time,” she decided solemly.

And Sam Winchester nodded, sniffing. It indeed was. Castiel and Dean were probably wondering what was taking so long, waiting inside the rental car, a couple of miles back. They had remained behind to give the two of them privacy: Rowena and Sam shared an intense bond. Dean would say it was because they both enjoyed books. Castiel would probably say that fate had united them. Sam thought differently. They were alike and yet different. They understood each other, had shared experiences. They could have been friends. They should have gotten to know each other more. It was too late for that now.

Or rather it was time. 

The clock was ticking. They needed to save the world. Dean and Cass would understand of course — he couldn’t kill her in cold blood. She was no longer the monster he had once hunted. Had she ever been really? 

Rowena’s glance was upon his face as he slowly retrieved his weapon from his pocket once more, shaking. They both stared at the gun filled with witch-killing bullets. Disgust was written all over Sam’s grieving features. Rowena’s face was empty — unreadable.

“Try...try not to stain my dress, please. It’s my favorite,” she whispered.

He ran his sleeve over his face, erasing the trails of tears that had cascaded down his cheeks. Sam couldn’t exactly understand whether she was joking or not — maybe it was her way of diffusing to tension? The woman looked paler now, shivering with fear — or was it the cold? Either way, he would try his best to grant her wishes. 

There were not a lot of means to kill witches, and especially not such a powerful one. A bullet to the heart — that would get bloody. No matter how much he tried. But he would do his best to make it clean. For her.

She deserved that at least.

He sighed. It was time.

“You will keep your promise, yes, Samuel?”

He nodded. She smiled. Before agreeing to sacrifice herself, Rowena had only asked for two things. One would have thought that she would have required much, but it was not the case. She had only requested to die at home, here, among the mountains she had cherished. Once gone, burnt, she wanted her ashes to remain with her family’s at the McLeod vault, with her son’s remains or whatever was left of them. Two wishes the brother had agreed to, naturally. Dean and Castiel had made sure that it would be possible for her.

Rowena smiled softly but he could decipher sadness hidden in her features. It was the way she kept on biting her crimson lips and twisting a ginger curl with her index finger.

It was time.

They both knew it.

“Close your eyes,” Sam said, his voice breaking.

He wanted to make it easier for her.

For them both.

He didn’t want to be the last thing she saw as she died. The Murderous Son.

He couldn’t do his deed if she kept on staring at him.

But Rowena shook her head, her eyes wide open, gazing at him. Instead, she proudly raised her chin and opened her arms to show him that she was at his mercy. The barrel of the gun was resting against her breast, following the movement of her chest.

“I am not afraid of dying, Sam. Not anymore,” she said calmly, confidently.

His heart broke inside his chest.

Focusing on his task, Sam put his finger on the trigger.

Tried to find the strength.

Looked into her beautiful eyes once more and found nothing but forgiveness.

Closed his. He couldn’t see her that way.

_ Breathe in, Breathe out. _

He couldn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

He had no choice.

_ For the world. _

He shot.

A gasp.

Sam sobbed.

Her lifeless body fell into his arms as he lowered her down, holding her tight against his chest, rocking her to her very last sleep.

His friend. His family.

The usual shimmer in her eyes was gone.

She was dead.

And yet, there was still this hint of a smile drawn on her pale, stoic face.

  
  


* * *

Rowena awoke with a start, her eyes fixed on her bedroom door. The sun was shining bright, showering her beautiful bedroom with unwanted light. She squinted her eyes and rubbed them, confused as to who would dare disturb her rest. Someone was knocking, and by the looks of it, they were pissed. She sighed — she had been in the middle of the most marvelous dream and wanted nothing but to return to that perfect world her mind had created for her. She glanced around and found her phone, stuffed between a fortress of pillows. It was almost noon — strange considering she never slept past eight. Too many nightmares disrupting her nights, too many wrongs to right. As she was about to answer, the pounding stopped. She waited a few seconds, and deciding that the person had either given up or disappeared, she fell back into her mattress, welcoming the warmth of her blankets. Trying to forget about that strange event, the witch stretched before rolling on the other side of the bed, burying her face into her pillows. She sighed, and closed her eyes, ready to drift back to unconsciousness. Hoping to fall back into that delicious dream of hers — she who had not experienced any of those in years.

“Mother?” Came from behind the door.

The redhead immediately sat, confused, yawning. She mustn’t have heard that right. It couldn’t be — how was it possible? He was dead, long gone, claimed by the Empty. How could he be here, with her? Yet she would recognize that voice in a million — that voice that had haunted her for years. Her heart filled with joy and relief. It didn’t matter how or why. He was there, behind her closed door and it was all that mattered.

Not bothering to put any clothes on, Rowena ran to the door wearing nothing but her nightdress and opened it to the person she had hated as much as loved. She smiled, widely. Her son, Fergus, was standing in the hallway, wearing his most beautiful tuxedo, hands in his pockets. His hair was just as she remembered, his beard thoroughly trimmed and his warm eyes shining bright. He didn’t look surprised to see her here at all. Fergus was about to say something — his mouth opened to let out what she expected to be a moan.

Instead, the woman threw her hands around his neck and flung herself against him. Surprised, unsure what to do, Crowley froze as she held him tight, burying her face into his shoulder. The scent of his cologne invaded her nose — it smelled heavenly. His heart was beating against her ear, his chest rose and fell at each breath. The former King of Hell stood still, perhaps too shocked to make a move and return her embrace. Tears of joy began to sparkle in her eyes as she clung onto him, never willing to let him go. He, the son she had abandoned and refused to love. Him, her greatest failure she had hoped she could fix.

“Fergus! Oh, Fergus! How I have missed you!” She whispered, rocking him into the embrace.

He was squirming in her arms. It was too much, even for her. Her heart was ready to burst from elation. His, on the other hand, was beating faster than ever. Sensing his awkwardness and confusion, she pulled away only to cup his cheeks. His brows were furrowed, his body tense. The witch couldn’t blame him; she had never been cuddly, especially not when he was a wee boy. She had denied her own crying son a hug too many times to count. She had never rocked him to sleep, never held him out of tenderness. He was not used to her concern and softheartedness, she who had been nothing but cold and manipulative to him. It was time to set the record straight. She was given a chance to make it all right. And she would.

After a while, Crowley took a step back, fleeing her embrace, and looked at his feet, blushing. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s not get carried away. We have guests waiting downstairs and you’re still in bed. Put some clothes on. They’re waiting.”

And just like that, her son left her doorstep hurriedly. Once more, Rowena MacLeod found herself alone. Guests? She wasn’t aware of any. How could she not remember such an event? She couldn’t even remember what she had done the day prior. But Rowena didn’t try to complain and she ran to her bedroom to put on her favorite red dress and do a quick yet effective makeup to complete her look. As usual, she got ready thoroughly, dressing to impress, especially since she had no idea who was waiting downstairs. Once done, she descended down the stairs of what looked like a beautiful, well-groomed house she had never seen before. Yet, it all looked familiar. The stones, the wood — it was her old house by the cliff, only it appeared much more cozy. Everything had been redecorated to fit her dreams and tastes. Somehow, it looked bigger. She could make out what looked like a study where the barns for the pigs used to stand. No more filth. No more mud. It was everything she had ever dreamed of for herself and her son.

In the living room, several people turned their heads as she entered. They all raised their glasses of champagne and clapped. Rowena stopped mid-way to stare at them in surprise. How? How was it all possible?

Fergus and his son, Gavin, were huddled by the fire. Oskar and his family who had rescued her had found their ways on the sofa. They had died — all of them. She had seen them. 

She closed her eyes, attempting to remember how she had gotten here. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite make out what had happened before she had woken up. The only thing she remembered was Sam Winchester’s face, wet with tears. A black and white abacus.

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered anymore. She had everything she had ever wanted.

Too overjoyed to dwell on the past, Rowena decided to discard that image as she hurried to greet them all, holding them tight against her chest. How had she deserved such a gathering? Everyone she loved and cared about were here. Everyone she had let down. Everyone except… 

As their names formed in her mind, the entrance door busted open as a couple of more people came in. Rowena beamed, unable to repress her smile. Sam with his beautiful hair, Dean and his grumpy face, Jack and his innocence, Charlie and her nerdy looks and Castiel were making their way into the group. They were the only ones missing. She was feeling complete.

Dean went to get a couple of beers. They all cheered and drank.

Against the bottle, she smiled.

She was happy.

This was heaven.

* * *

The door opened. Both Sam and Dean straightened themselves on their chairs — staring at the newcomer, ready to draw their weapons if necessary. Old habits died hard, and even though there was no immediate threat, life had taught them that one end of the world could hide another. Their body relaxed as they recognized the familiar trench coat.

“So?” Sam said abruptly as Castiel made his way down the stairs.

The Angel stopped to glance at the brothers, smiling sadly. There was no blood on his clothes nor anything out of the ordinary, which was a good sign. Sam felt his heart skip a beat in his chest — this was it. The moment they had been waiting for. The final answer they needed before retiring. The thought of it had kept him awake. That, and the memory of the tragedy he had caused. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Rowena’s limp body in his arms as he had carried her back to the rental car. The coldness of her skin. Her mouth open and trickles of blood escaping her lips. Her eyes wide open on the grey sky above her head.

They had performed the ritual that day, keeping God from ever returning to the world he had created. Scratching him out of the equation. It was not like he had been present for them anyway — and now, he could no longer cause them any harm. They could not kill the Allmighty — he was powering the sun and his passing would unbalance the universe. But they had found another way — an equally radical solution to their problem. They traded Rowena’s life for it. Sam would have rather shot Chuck, looking back. But they had succeeded and her sacrifice had not been in vain.

They had burned her body that day, hunter style, observing how the flames devoured her being. They had said a few words to honor her, all of them grieving one way or another. After that, they had returned her ashes to the vault, only keeping with them one hex bag to remember her by. The world would never know who she was and what she had done, but they most certainly would. They would carry her torch.

After saving the world once and for all and fulfilling Rowena’s last wishes, the Winchester family had returned home to finally enjoy the rest they deserved. Well, Dean had slept and ate more than ever. Sam, on the other hand, was way too anxious to fully enjoy the situation, fearing the next apocalypse and remembering all those they had lost over the years. The world was at peace. Yet, there was one last thing they needed to be assured of before finally enjoying their retirement. Having spent quality time with their favorite witch — once enemies, Sam and Dean Winchester had wondered where she would end up. They had talked about it, betting on one place and another without any certainty.

Rowena had lived centuries in lies and manipulations, never hesitating to kill or betray to get what she wanted. Yet, over the past few years, she had changed. For the better. Both brothers had been hoping that her recent deeds would be enough to grant her a place in Paradise. Dean thought Purgatory would be fitting. Sam begged to differ.

They had sent their loyal winged friend to investigate on the matter, having access to Heaven.

Castiel slowly made his way to the table, sitting opposite of the brothers, right next to Jack — who had not participated in the murder of their friend but sympathized. He too had known Rowena, the caring version of her at least.

“She is in a good place. A better place. She is happy,” the angel finally whispered.

They all sighed in relief, half of a smile spreading on their lips. A weight dropped from Sam’s shoulders. She had done it. She had gotten her happily ever after in a way, which was more than most people could even dare hope for. This called for a celebration!

They all sat around the table, multiple bottles of whiskey in front of them, toasting to the memory of their dear friend. They drank that night, remembering their cases with the witch, the moments they had shared. Laughter was echoing inside this bunker which had more often hosted anguish rather than joy. Rowena wouldn’t want them to cry for her — well, not too much. After a couple of drinks, Castiel told them what he had seen in Rowena’s Heaven. How he had gotten in, arriving in the middle of a party. How happy she had been to see them coming. They all listened carefully, surprised to say the least, to hear about Crowley and Rowena’s reunion. Their relationship had always been complicated — but hearing that they were working on it was a solace.

She had found her family again.

The family she had fought so hard to regain.

The family she had traded for magic.

She was with her son.

Sam smiled, dipping his lips into the alcohol and chugging the beverage. Rowena MacLeod had not lived by the rules for hundreds of years. She had murdered and hurt people for the fun of it, manipulated young innocent souls for her own good and yet — she had been forgiven. Maybe God was never on their side, but this news had given him hope. Even villains could be redeemed. And maybe they could be as well.

Maybe, when the time came — and it would, they would end up in Heaven too, surrounded by the people they had loved and lost.

Maybe they too could get a happy ending.


End file.
